January
by Blueberry and Blacktooth
Summary: Catalina Augustín is a girl of simple wants. She wants to continue her dream job at her leisure, she wants her dream wedding, and she wants happiness. Surely those weren't the worst desires one could have -and yet, when she's sent to Forks, a dreary, bleak, backwater town, everything she knows is challenged, and her world is left whirling. Now she just wants to see the sun again.
1. Chapter 1

**BACK AT AGAIN WITH MY BULLSHIT!**

 **Lol, this story concept has been bugging me for a while now, I couldn't resist writing it I'm sorry. So far its only two chapters, don't expect regular updates.**

 **Otherwise I hope you all like it! Fair warning, its unbeta'd ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

 **Con crit is much appreciated!**

 **Much love :)**

* * *

I should have expected the endless rain from the moment the plane touched down in Seattle under stormy grey clouds and the heavy fog of the runway. I'd been clutching tightly at the arm rests throughout the whole descent, ignoring the amused glance my seating buddy -a middle-aged woman from Texas who'd been willing to give me her dessert and thus sparking lifelong companionship between the two of us- and praying fiercely. I'd never liked flying, despite the frequency with which I did it. I blamed my morbid fascination on too many episodes of Seconds From Disaster, and other such shows.

Thankfully, we touched down quickly enough, with hardly any of the accompanying jostling that was caused by tires connecting with the runway, and as we disembarked, I'd only glanced up at the sky one last time before forgetting all about it. After exchanging numbers with my newfound friend, it had been going through security and customs and everything else that involved landing in a foreign country. The state of the weather had been the least of my priorities.

My liaison met me holding a small whiteboard scrawled with _Catalina Augustìn_ in hasty script and an excited smile on his freckled face. The accent in my surname was facing the wrong direction, but it wasn't enough to deter me from potential extraction. I was exhausted, and quite ready to been on my way. With my duffel bag over one shoulder, backpack on the other, and heavy Pikachu printed suitcase rolling along next to me, I dragged myself over to meet him, mustering up a tired smile.

"That would be me." I said, gesturing at the sign wryly, and he jumped a little, having been faced in the other direction. He blinked a few times, before gracing me with a bright smile, hurriedly placing the board in the small basket of the trolley next to him.

"It's great to meet you -well, in person that is. I'm Scott Walters, your liaison, and the guy you've been exchanging emails with for the better part of the month." He ended the introduction with a sheepish laugh, before moving to take my suitcase and place it on the trolley. I was more than happy enough to relinquish it.

"Hello," I answered, my smile becoming more genuine. Soon we were on our way out the airport, and he handed me his umbrella when he saw the downpour waiting for us outside, but still I didn't suspect anything, too busy trying to pay attention to his excited ramblings about how him and the program were excited that I'd been willing to accept the position, and how they were looking forward to the results. English wasn't my first, nor even second language, and it worked better for me when people spoke slowly, which he wasn't exactly doing.

Still, I caught the majority of it, and by the time we were settled into his humble Prius and had hit the highway, I'd been drawn into conversation.

We both worked for an international nonprofit organization called _Colors_ , that focused on spreading the Liberal Arts in schools all over the world -specifically in less privileged environments. It was my second and a half year as a Music teacher for them, and I'd joined as soon as I'd graduated from Berklee, Valencia (and an additional six month course at Academia Internacional de Música de Solsona). I'd been very lucky they'd taken me straight out of school.

Scott however, was a veteran, having been a part since way back when it was just forming in 2002. He was a Philosophy teacher, which surprised me because he was just so _happy_. But he assured me that even he had his moments of grave existential angst, which caused me to laugh despite myself.

Exhaustion however, pulled at my senses, and I was half asleep when we passed the great green sign that cheerily proclaimed "Welcome to Forks!" that seemed to be overcompensating with exclamation marks to distract from the utter _dullness_ of the small town.

Of course, upon being offered the posting, pictures had been attached, but I hadn't expected it to be so small, and as we passed a great big bear carving, _rustic_. I realized it hadn't stopped raining since we'd left the airport,in fact, the town only seemed darker and more dreary than anywhere else. Yet, its inhabitants (who all seemed to be pale skinned and sturdy) were undeterred, trudging through the puddles in gumboots and parkas, ignoring the downpour completely.

I looked to Scott as we pulled over at a stoplight. "Is it always so...?" I asked hesitantly, to which he simply laughed.

"Yes."

 _Merde_ , I thought.

I slumped further in my seat, and glanced at the rose-gold diamond ring on my finger. I recalled Matiás' warnings not to come, and wished now that I'd listened, though to be fair, his main reason had been that he hadn't wanted me gone for half a year, but technicalities. i'd been adamant however, because I knew that as soon as the wedding took place, my touring ways would be over, and I'd be forced to find a job closer to home. Just once more, I'd told him. One more time, and then I'd stop.

But _Dios_ , even if the sight of Forks was enough to discourage anyone, the job wasn't. I loved music, loved the sound, the feel of it, and I loved teaching it even more; sharing the experience with others, seeing the joy on their faces and happiness on even the most sullen was indescribable. How could Matiás expect me to give that up?

It wasn't to say that Barcelona was terrible, or that I couldn't find a job there, but it just wouldn't be the same.

I wanted to be excited for the next six months, to look forward to it, but as I glanced around, all l felt was gloom. My last posting would be spent in this depressing town, and I wanted to cry. Maybe I'd ask for a transfer, if it all got too much.

"We're very grateful you accepted, this'll be the first time Forks High is getting an Exchange Teacher. We're hoping we'll be able to promote the school, encourage others you know?" Scott said, pushing the car into drive again when the light turned green, and then I started to feel guilty.

 _Just a little._

I tried to get a good look at the town, in an attempt to get a feel for its layout but it wasn't exact hard since the whole place was like two meters wide. I used the (only) petrol station as a landmark for the town center, mostly because there was nothing else distinctive enough _to be used._ Under normal circumstances, it would a least a bit worrisome, but one couldn't exactly get lost here.

We pulled into the suburbs, all full of quaint, two story houses and large green yards between them, and we got a few stares as we drove past, until we seemed to leave the area altogether.

Scott turned into a gravel road that lasted the duration of five minutes, before pulling into a complete stop in front of a two-story house much like the ones we'd seen earlier, only it was a faded red. There was a wooden porch, some flowers up front, and a chimney. It _also_ had a very big yard, the forest looming darkly behind it.

Nervously I looked to the man sitting next to me, "No apartment buildings in Forks?" I asked, only half joking, to which he winced.

That was answer enough.

He hurried to retrieve my things, and I followed behind him in trepidation, trying to imagine living in such seclusion all by myself. My imagination didn't come with anything reassuring.

"Oh don't worry, Forks' literally the safest place ever, and no animals venture this close to town either. You'll be alright." The freckled man said as he pulled open the screen door and jammed the keys into the keyhole of the wooden door beyond.

"I hope so," I muttered to myself, casting one last look around before following inside. I'd watched far too many American horror movies to feel entirely comfortable, and knew that come nighttime, everything would be locked down better than the Vatican.

"The heating system can be a little problematic from time to time, old houses don't adapt well to technology, apparently-" here he laughed, placing my bags at the entrance, "-but we've prepared enough firewood in the shed to last you a year, and then some, so no worries for the winter at least. Everything else should be in working order, and if any problems arise, then you have my number."

"Bedrooms are upstairs, the main one is the last door down the hall. There's a study, and a guest bedroom, and extra storage space below the stairs." He said gesturing to the place.

It wasn't terrible, I decided immediately. The furnishings were nice, modern but not fancy, walls painted a serene blue-grey, and curtains thick and pretty, not to mention it was surprisingly spacious, an open plan layout that made the place seem bigger than it really was. The kitchen was through an archway on the left, and a carpeted stairwell led to the top floor. Wide windows and cherry wood floors, I actually found myself pleasantly surprised.

"It is really nice." I told Scott, who was watching my reaction nervously.

The man beamed, "Ah thank goodness, we did our best. I know it's not what you're used to but-"

I shook my head, holding up my hands to stop him. "Really, it is great. I am looking forward to living here."

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, "I was a bit concerned, you seemed more cheerful over the phone and, well I know Forks is a bit dull... " he and I winced in tandem.

I chastised myself. Here I was, already bitching and moaning from the get go, while he and the organizers had done the most to make sure she was comfortable. I felt horrid. "I am sorry, I am not normally so," I made a vague gesture to myself, smiling wryly, and Scott, bless him, chuckled. "It is a bit of a...change, but, I am here for the kids, not the luxury. I volunteered, I am sticking to it. Please do not feel bad."

Scott shrugged easily, "I get it. They sent me to Uganda once when I'd only ever worked in Europe, and well, it was different." He left it at that, causing me to laugh a little. "Anyway, the rest of your stuff should be here by tomorrow. Um, the house is already stocked with the basics, but you can request anything you think you need and housekeeping will come over every Sunday, starting next week. For now though, I think that's it. Questions?" He asked, to which I just smiled and shook my head.

He cleared his throat, before heading over to the living room, "You know how to start a fire?" He asked, beckoning me over to the fireplace.

"Uh..." Was my intelligent answer, to which he laughed loudly.

"I'll teach you, watch. You'll need to know, it can get very cold here." He said sternly.

"I cannot just call you over every time to start one for me?" I asked jokingly, to and he only laughed.

Nonetheless, I paid close attention, knowing that I'd need to know it. I had zero experience in winter environments, all the places I'd lived in having been tropical, and I'd have been doomed had he not offered.

Soon we had a merry blaze going, and I couldn't help but marvel as I put my hands out to get warm. I hadn't realized how cold I'd been until that moment, though it was understandable. I was dressed for a light autumn chill, not midwinter up in the Olympic peninsula.

Scott gave me a look of amusement, dusting off his hands, "You've got a fireplace up in your room too." He informed me, and I gave a pleased sigh, rubbing my hands together.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist, before cursing abruptly, "I've actually gotta go but, again, call me if you need anything, alright?" I glanced outside, it had long since gone dark, to my surprise. No wonder he was rushing.

 _"Gracias,_ Scott." I said, as we got up and he blushed a little, the colour contrasting starkly with the red of his hair.

"Uh, no problemo." He coughed, scratching the back of his head, "I'm afraid I slept through most of Spanish in highschool, and the few times I didn't, I was ditching." He admitted sheepishly.

I gave a snort of amusement, "I am judging you," I told him, but the ginger only shrugged helplessly, before answering. "It's youth."

As soon as Scott left, I threw myself into the surprisingly comfortable couch, kicking off my sneakers and draping my legs over the end with a sigh of contentment. I didn't want to venture upstairs in this still strange house at night, and anyway the living room had warmed up quickly, and after locking the door behind Scott (I would be taking no risks in this place) all I wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep.

But first, I had to call back home.

Shimmying slightly to reach my phone in my back pocket, I switched it on. A lock screen photo of me and Matiás greeted me, both of us smiling bright under the Barcelona sunshine and I sighed, remembering our fight the day I'd left.

It was only when I saw that my time was still set for GMT+1 and the circles of my signal bar were replaced by a red SOS that I realized I wouldn't be making any calls for the foreseeable future. Until I went and got myself a Sim card and a data plan (and hopefully WiFi, though that seemed unlikely) I wouldn't be contacting anyone.

Sighing again, I tossed the phone (gently) onto the coffee table and stared up at the ceiling until I fell asleep.

* * *

The next day was spent exploring and scrubbing down the house from top to bottom, getting into all the books and crannies until each and every surfaced gleamed brightly. In my adventures around the house, I found the shed at the back, the storage space Scott had mentioned, and a food pantry in the kitchen.

Upstairs was a bit smaller than the main floor, but my bedroom was big and airy, and my bathroom had a bathtub, so really, what else mattered?

True to Scott's word, a delivery truck pulled up with the rest of my belongings just after midday, causing me to feel a million times better. Having pieces of myself in the house would make this place feel a little more like home, and after extracting my Bluetooth speaker from a box and putting on some music I gleefully set about unpacking. Mostly, it was just my billions of books and souvenirs I'd picked up from my various stints as a teacher all over, as well as linens and towels, and some framed photos but it was enough.

My most important possession was the blown wide photo of my mami that I'd paid extra to be shipped over as fragile. As I unwrapped it carefully, I delicately stroked her smiling face, feeling a pang in my heart. She was beautiful, dressed in her festive red dress that she dances in, a rose in her mahogany hair and her bright grey eyes gleaming with happiness. I could still remember the day the photo had been taken as vividly as if it had been yesterday. I missed her even more than one would miss a limb.

I placed her right at the entrance, displaying her proudly.

At around four, I heard a honking outside, and when I went outside, found a man in dirty, oil slicked overalls climbing out a tow truck, a small grey Jeep behind it.

Apparently what Scott hadn't told me, was that I'd be getting a car. Needless to say, I was shocked, because well, teachers who worked for _Colors_ were volunteers -the program only funded necessities, such as housing and insurance. The rest had to be taken out of our own pocket.

But apparently my liaison had been kind enough to donate his to my cause, and I couldn't help but be terribly, terribly relieved because a big worry of mine had been how exactly I'd be getting to work each morning.

The mechanic left soon after, and I wished I could've called Scott to show just how grateful I was. I made a mental note that it would be the first thing I'd do as soon as I was able.

The remainder of the day was spent going over my lesson plans; I had classes with all four years, spread out through the week, and while the highschool itself wasn't very big nor would every student take my class, it was still the most work I'd ever done. Most other places, I'd at least two co-teachers to spread out the work with, but here, I was alone. My only saving grace was that Forks already had a music program, however defunct. At least I wouldn't be starting from scratch.

I called in for Pizza at dinner, finding the town's services' pamphlet posted on the fridge, nibbling on a few slices in front of the TV as I watched a Mexican telenovela channel, before retiring for an early night.

Monday morning dawned, well not bright, but early. When I peeked out from behind my thick purple curtains, I found frost had laced the windows, the clouds grey as ever and I grumbled to myself slightly, because I _really_ wasn't made for this weather.

I went through my morning ritual as vigilantly as always, taking my time on my teeth, making sure they were as clean as could be, before rinsing with mouthwash, revelling in the burn. Then I soaked in the bathtub, water just slighter hotter than I could take it, forcing my body to relax until it adjusted, and proceeded to scrub myself thoroughly.

I was _very_ particular about personal hygiene, going so far as to always carry antiseptic wipes and a small bottle of hand sanitizer with me everywhere I went. Matiás teased me for it but I'd grown up in a strict home, and the habit of extreme cleanliness and neatness followed me into adulthood.

(Plus, I had a bad habit of judging people, and one couldn't judge if they too were the same)

After applying my preferred lotion and styling my dark hair into a bun, I dressed smartly in black cashmere pants that flared at the bottom, a red polo neck, and black mary-janes. _Always look your best,_ my mami had always said, _you never knew who was watching._

I also had the disadvantage of being young, and people tended to underestimate me. I couldn't just look my best, I had to _be_ my best.

After accompanying the look with a red lip and a brown eye shadow pallette, I straightened my clothes carefully, gave myself one last critical look in the floor length mirror attached to the closet door and declared myself ready to go.

I grabbed my bag which I'd prepared the night before and a flask of coffee, before donning my peacoat and making my way outside. When the frigid air hit me, I was glad for my heavy layers, because _Dios_ , it was _freezing_. Reading the weather reports on the internet were one thing, but actually experiencing it was another. It was a miracle nothing was frozen over.

I quickly got into the car, turning up the heater as high as it could go, and sitting in place a few minutes more to get warm, before I actually put the car into drive.

Forks Highschool wasn't particularly hard to find, even though it was on the other side of town. The ride was only a brief fifteen minutes, even with my snail slow driving. I pulled in, noting the sign that indicated the faculty's parking lot, and found a parking spot close to the entrance. School started at eight on the dart, and it was currently seven forty-five, but I did still have to meet with the principal before classes started.

The campus itself was really a bunch of redbrick buildings that just all happened to be in the same area, and not a connected, cohesive building, but honestly, I'd seen worse, and it was better than I'd expected.

I hurried inside to the reception room, where I found a plump, curly haired woman standing at the counter, arranging some colorful school flyers carefully. I cleared my throat to get her attention, and her wide eyes flew to me in surprise, her hand jerking in shock causing some of the flyers to scatter. She made an abortive motion, and I hurried to pick them up from where they'd fallen.

"Oh, thank you dearie, I can be such a clutz." Said the woman, pushing them together and firmly arranging them once more but I only waved my hand dismissively.

"It is my fault, really. I apologize." I told her with a smile, but she only gawked at me in shocked silence for a moment, before she left out a puff of air through her nose.

"Well look at you and your fancy accent, just like one of them beauties in the Bond movies! You that new exchange teacher?" She asked interestedly, to which I nodded.

She made a sound of comprehension, "I'd heard you were Mexican but its still a bit surprising, you see. Why our Spanish language teacher's from over there, but she's been here so long we consider her one of ours. Her accent's _long_ gone. What did you say your name was again, dearie?"

I blinked a few times, "My name is Catalina, and I am from Spain actually." I corrected, to which she nodded sagely.

"Ooh yes, much more exotic I think. Always wanted to go there myself, spend time in the capital, see a little bit of the world and all that, but well, my husband's a right caveman. Can't even be bothered to take a drive down to the beach, let alone travel halfway across the world, he just loves to sit on that chair of his and watch the game." The woman huffed indignantly, and I watched in amusement "Well anyway, that's marriage for you I guess, word of advice, Kitty, don't do it. I'm Mrs Cope by the way, but you can call me Marge. I run things around here -though ain't you a bit young?"

Ah there it was, exactly what I'd been waiting for. And it would be happening until I turned at least twenty-seven.

But I could only shrug, because I _was_ young, barely twenty-four. "Well, I do hope so, yes," I agreed and we both laughed, "Is the principal in? I am supposed to meet with him before I start." I informed her, and she nodded.

"Oh, I see I see. Let me just ring him for you." she said, picking up the telephone before she'd even finished talking.

A few words later, and she hung up. "He'll be out in a little while, he's just-"

Just then the door opened once more, cutting her off and drawing both our attention.

In walked a mousy teenage girl, with brown hair and pale skin, dressed sensibly in jeans, a heavy grey parka, and rain boots. Her shoulders were hunched in when she walked, her eyes trained on the ground and hand clutched tightly onto the strap of her backpack.

"Can I help you?" Asked Mrs Cope -it felt entirely awkward to call her by her first name- looking at the girl expectantly.

"I'm Isabella Swan." She mumbled quietly. Recognition passed over the older woman's face, and I saw Isabella fidget uncomfortably. It was evident this was a girl who didn't like attention -I could empathize; I'd been a teenager once not so long ago. Wretched years, those were.

"Of course," breathed Mrs Cope, before rummaging through a pile of precariously stacked papers, attention straying. "I've got your map and schedule around here somewhere..."

I gave Isabella a friendly smile and a playful nudge with my shoulder. She stumbled slightly, before righting herself and staring up at me with wide brown eyes, her cheeks red. "Do not worry, I am new too." I whispered just low enough for her ears to catch.

She blinked a few times, blushing deeper, before a hesitant smile blossomed on her face. Her mouth opened, but before she could say anything, a door on the side of the office opened loudly, revealing a thin man with a bald head gleaming so bright it reflected the florescent lights in the room. Isabella's mouth clamped shut.

"Ms Augustín, I'm ready for you." He announced simply, voice nasally and the moustache above his lip twitching with every word, before ducking back into the office.

I looked back at the young girl next to me and we shared a glance of amusement, my lips twitching, and she let out a helpless snort before hurriedly covering her mouth, looking shy suddenly, but she seemed to be a lot less nervous, which was my goal in the first place.

"Ah found them!" Announced Mrs Cope, brandishing the papers proudly.

"Good luck. " I said to her, before leaving with a conspiratory wink, and following after the Principal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Writing Edward's POV is like, the hardest thing ever. _Ever._ Feel free to inform me if he's acting particularly ooc, I'm sorry. **

**Cat's thoughts are in Spanish by the way, just so that you all are aware. But we all know Edward is fluent so...ya.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

I stared at the cracks running through the plaster in the far corner of the rarely used, dilapidated music room (which was really just an unused classroom in a sparsely occupied wing of the school), imagining patterns into them that were not there, and wishing only for this blasted school day to end. It was in these moments of utter mind numbing boredom that I wished I could fall asleep, if only to give me a respite from the tedium of it all. Day after day, week after week, we were forced to endure this teenage charade, appear to be 'normal' and I wondered if perhaps vampires could die from excessive amounts of ennui.

Seated beside me, and very clearly not feeling the same frustration I was, Alice was a bubbly presence as she scrolled through the latest spring line of some designer or other on her phone, indiscriminately appreciating and criticizing each photo she passed. Her thoughts strayed to the imminent event of New York Fashion Week that loomed ahead, already planning her itinerary.

I managed the effort for a sigh of exasperation, but she ignored me. I found myself vaguely disappointed, perhaps if she'd reacted, it could have served as a brief distraction from the state of purgatory I found myself in. Yet she hadn't even spared me a thought.

I glanced at the clock above the large white board in the front of the room. Only three minutes to the start of class, and it almost felt like I wouldn't make it.

It didn't help that the residents of Forks High were particularly lively today, all gossiping about the uncommonly _monumentous_ occasion that had come to pass on this winter day -not one, but _two_ whole new arrivals had arrived in town and had now joined the school's population. The police chiefs long estranged daughter who'd shown her face after over five years of absence, and a brand new addition, a young music teacher who'd come over from Barcelona. Practically newsworthy for this backwater town.

It was the latter's classroom we currently found ourselves waiting in.

When it came to the human mind, I'd heard it all before and then some. All thoughts were consumed with this trivial drama of the recent arrivals, voiced whispers carrying their names on their lips and their wide eyes trailing after them like hyenas starving for their next meal.

It took so little to work them all up.

The girl (plain at best and entirely unremarkable at worst), was being herded around like a shiny toy they couldn't get enough of. The children were brimming with questions and false smiles as they tried to assimilate themselves with this strange girl from Arizona. Most of the sheep-like males were already imagining themselves in love with her, just because she was something new to look at -and I say ' _most_ '', not because of the mature minority that comported themselves in a marginally more respectful manner, but because 'most' still hadn't seen the second arrival. The only students who'd seen the were the first group of Seniors she'd attended to second period, and the totality of all the sixteen males in that class were completely infatuated.

Through that group, I'd seen the woman from almost every angle possible to the human eye, and it wasn't only the boys who'd assessed her. Thoughts of admiration, jealousy and envy radiated from the females, each of them critically going over her entire appearance from head to toe.

Oh yes, she was beautiful, that was obvious enough to even the queerest of men, with her thick mahogany hair, startling grey eyes and golden skin. And _yes_ , her foreign accent only added to her appeal, that was evident, but she was far from the most alluring woman I'd seen; Tanya, Kate, Rosalie. When you'd seen them, you'd seen it all really. Still, for the small town Forks residents, she may as well have been the second coming of Venus (the original appearance having been awarded to my blonde sister upon our arrival.

The same sister who'd been annoyingly sour throughout the whole of lunch because these insipid little boys hadn't been paying her as much attention as usual.)

At least this class had the potential of being interesting, if only to create a change in the weekly monotony of uninspired public school education and serve as a way to alleviate my boredom, if only by a miniscule out. It had been Alice's idea for us to participate, citing a different experience than that the small highschool typically allowed, though I very much doubted that this woman would be able teach me anything about music that I didn't already know. A temporary activity to occupy my mind at the loss of new knowledge -how unfortunate that even us immortal beings couldn't have everything. At least then, the payoff would be worth the general wretchedness of being.

I tilted my head slightly as I heard the sound of high heels clicking against the floor, followed by an unfamiliar voice mentally preparing themselves in Spanish. It was our long awaited teacher, who finally arrived.

She swept into the room the minute the clock hand signalled the start of class, a closed papercup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. Most of her things had already been deposited on the teachers desk beforehand, next to the schools humble stereo that I'd last seen occupying the reception. The class quieted as soon as she'd walked in, though their minds seemed to have doubled in volume.

 _'Wow, she's hot!'_

 _'Oh my gosh, she's so pretty!'_

And other such variations circled the thoughts of these teens, though a familiar _'Oh she's lovely... I love her outfit!'_ From Alice added to the mix.

Taking a seat at the edge of the desk, she gave us a once over, before predictably, doing a doubletake when her eyes landed on Alice and I seated at the back.

 _Good God, is their whole family this stunning? First the blonds earlier, now these two! She looks like a fairy come to life and the boy, now he's a snack-! Stop! Don't do it, any further in that direction and you'll be entering the realm of creepy perversion -remember, they're teenagers._ She chastised herself, abruptly looking away from us and back to the glass, much to my relief. I didn't need another female mindlessly fawning over me. And while I couldn't exactly blame them, considering the fact that our whole beings were designed to lure them in as prey, it was still tiring hearing the same thing over and over.

Clearing her throat, she gave the class a smile, deliberately not looking in my direction. "Hello all," she said, and those mere two words launched everyone into a flurry once more at her voice. I just about managed no to roll my eyes.

"My name is Catalina Augustín, and I will be your music teacher for the next six months, so I do hope we will get along. Um, obviously, I am not a native English speaker, and I tend to mix languages a lot, so if any of you do not understand, please just ask." Even without the disclaimer, her manner of speaking gave her away as a novice English speaker; lack of contractions, deliberate slowness around the vowels...it was obvious she was still a beginner.

"This class _en particular_ is not a general music class, but music _appreciation_ , and that means by the end of my time here in September, you all will know how to competently analyze and break down a song, no matter the style, and be able to write and form an educated opinion using professional terms." She gave us all a long look, but before long her smile was back. "But most importantly, I'm going to teach you how to _enjoy_ music. And _I_ think that is the important part of this class, no?"

Suddenly she stood and walked over to Jessica Stanley's desk in the front row. "What is your name?"

Jessica preened under the attention, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders a bit more. "Its Jessica, Ms."

The older woman winced at the title, waving her hand. " _Dios_ , no. Just Catalina is fine, I am not that older than you all." Her tone was vaguely horrified. She _was_ young for a highschool teacher, to be sure, and I found myself amused at her dislike of the moniker.

"Tell me, Jessica, what is your favorite song?" She asked the blonde girl.

Jess made a thoughtful sound, her mind flitting through an almost painful collection of recent pop songs that had swept the charts recently, before she nodded. "I really love Teenage Dream, by Katy Perry right now." She declared confidently, and a few other girls in the classroom made sounds of agreement, Alice included.

This time I really did roll my eyes.

Catalina seemed amused, but unsurprised. "Why?" She asked simply.

At this question, the teenage girl faltered, "Uh, it's like, really good you know? I feel really great when it comes on and it's like, fun and catchy."

"Ah, I agree with the fun and catchy, but what is interesting to me is how you feel when you hear it, Jessica. Almost like you are very...light, I am guessing?"

Jessica nodded enthusiastically, reminding me of a mindless bobblehead. "Yeah, like that!"

"Do you have it in your music collection?"

"Of course! Hold on a sec, I'll show you!" And a few seconds later, she was handing the teacher her phone.

Taking it with a pleased smile, Catalina walked back to the front. "Many times, we do not ever ask ourselves why a song is our favorite, we only listen and accept." She spoke as she connected the smartphone to the aux chord, "We think that oh, I love this song, and maybe sometimes it is because of the emotional connection we have with it, and that is the beauty of music, it just makes us feel good. Or as Jessica said, it makes us feel great. _Pero, por qué?_ "

"I do not listen to Katy Perry, but when I first heard this song of hers, I repeated it, and repeated it again, until it was the only thing I was hearing for many days, even when it was not playing out loud, I could hear it in my head, over and over again. I asked myself, just why was I suddenly liking a song from a singer I did not give attention? And I made _una realización -_ this song is a masterpiece."

I wanted very much to scoff, because there was nothing particularly masterful about it at all, but something stopped me from immediately disregarding her words, and I could only listen.

She pressed play on the stereo, the first strumming of notes filling up the class and beamed, "You hear that? This song is all about suspense—not in her voice but in the emotion. We are reminded of being on the road, or a roller coaster, like a rush. This excitement is created simply, by keeping any I chords from us!" She laughed as if this was a great source of amusement for her.

The song played on, "Now the bass, the guitar moves from the first note to an IV chord, or well, IV7 actually. The chord will never come again. And do you hear how Katy's melody begins on the tonic, that is the note of the missing I chord, the same note that the key is in. She stays around the tonic, concentrates the tonic, and the vocal melody shows the key so clearly that there is no doubt, Katy's voice is _la sensación de estar en casa_ , the rest of the song is playing around her, like the earth orbits the sun. We feel light and happy, keep listening for that end that does not come, again _un sentido de alegría."_

And so she continued, a systematic breakdown of this deceptively basic teen pop song, unravelling the layers and explaining the reasoning behind its previously inexplicable success, and even I, who'd so easily dismissed it found myself entirely engaged, reassessing my previous opinion -I abruptly found the song less irking, not as headache inducing. Her words somehow transformed it into something _more_ than boring lyrics and repetitive score.

And when it came to an end, there was a sense of tangible marvel in the class, thoughts full of awe and appreciation for this new perspective we'd all acquired for a seemingly banal pop song.

Handing Jessica her phone back, the teacher patted her shoulder, "It really is a good song. Thank you, Jessica."

The girl in question could only stammer out a vague response, nodding and staring up at the teacher with shining eyes and the beginnings of hero worship in her mind.

"Do you all now see?" She asked us all, a dark brow raised in challenge as she stared us down daringly, "Music is not only playing an instrument, or knowing all the lyrics to one song or another. It is art, and appreciating that art from every aspect, and again, I hope very much that soon, everyone in this classroom will be able to do so."

I could see the real passion she had for the art in not only the way she spoke, but in the excitement to get started that radiated off her rapid thoughts. She loved the music, the experience, the atmosphere it created, and my interest perked, because it was very rare to find someone in this age that genuinely felt that way. Not for the fame that modern day artists craved, or even the money, but purely for the _sound_.

I experienced an almost wistful feeling of longing for my own piano -untouched for over a year. I longed desperately for the high I once felt when I played, that feeling of inspiration it created each time my fingers touched the ivory keys. Yet I hadn't been able to reach that place for a long time. Everything around me was so bland and colorless -a monotone world of grey.

It was an odd thing, almost jarring to hear the feelings of this woman, feelings I'd once shared just as passionately, and as I watched her draw in the classroom, entice us all with her mere presence, I realized I was bored no longer.

When the bell rang forty minutes later, I found myself almost disappointed that the class had ended and I'd have to wait a full week before the next one. I hadn't even registered the rapidity with which the period had passed.

Students filed out, hurrying for their last class of the day, whispering excitedly about the lesson they'd just experienced and waving farewell to their newly dubbed 'favorite teacher'.

 _I wonder how Jazz is doing... I hope he made it through alright, he was having a very hard time during lunch, I'm so proud of him..._

Alice's thoughts were full of concern for her husband as we made our way to the classroom, walking at a purposeful human pace. She was going over the possibility of catching a few minutes with him before their next class, but I soon tuned her out, my mind straying to the now-familiar Spanish filled mind of our teacher.

She was seated at her desk, going through the lesson plans of the old music instructor, full of disdain as she read over the less than impressive methods he'd taught.

 _These are abysmal, its no wonder no one here has even a vague grasp of anything...Just what had the school been thinking hiring this man? I'll be running them all through the basics for the next to weeks, which means I'll have to review my own plans..._

Scoffing in annoyance at her derailed intentions, she closed the blue file, the air causing some papers to drop to the ground. Almost without a conscious decision, my body veered from where I'd reached the door to her desk, before crouching down to gather them.

Alice paused at the door, giving me an incredulous look. _Edward?_ She mentally asked.

I stood a few seconds later, handing them to the woman over the desk with a polite smile. Her mind was a flurry of confusion, wonder, and embarrassment. _He and his blond sister are the most gorgeous people I've ever seen! She had me questioning my sexuality, but_ this _one-Stopstopstop! Think of the many years of prison you'd face for underage sexual harassment! Think of Matiás!_

An image of a smiling, blond haired man appeared in her mind very briefly, before flickering back to me.

She forcibly pulled her wide eyes from my face, keeping them safely fixed on the papers, to my amusement. Her thoughts and behavior were very different from what I was used to. Her hands shook slightly as she took the papers from me, "Ah, _soy terrible_." She murmured putting them back in the file, flustered, still not looking at me but instead pretending to be occupied with rearranging them. "Thank you very much...?"

My lips twitched, and I bit the inside of my cheek. "Edward. Edward Cullen." I answered. I found her attempts to avoid thinking about my appearance interesting, despite myself. Normally, I'd be grateful, if a little weary of it, but for some reason I couldn't muster up my usual disdain this time.

 _Have mercy on my soul Lord, his_ voice _-this is just ridiculous!_ And yet she remained outwardly composed, not showing even a hint of what was going through her mind. "Well, thank you, Edward." She said, her own voice shaking only a little bit as she closed the dossier. I noticed the expensive gold, diamond encrusted band on her ring finger. I commended her; almost all human females were a stammering mess around me, engaged or not.

 _Edward, what are you doing?_ Alice called, watching our interaction in confusion, having put aside Jasper for the moment as she watched me.

I didn't react to her thoughts. "It's no problem." I said easily, addressing the mahogany haired woman, before leaving and joining my sister.

As we walked down the hallway, she kept shooting me puzzled glances, running my behavior through her mind and trying to pinpoint a reason behind my uncharacteristic actions.

"What was that all about?" She asked aloud, pouting slightly when she could deduce no answer.

Unfortunately, I had no answer to give, and could only shrug helplessly in reply. It was a spur of the moment decision, one I hadn't even thought out. Regardless, it was an inconsequential one in the long run -I was hardly signing my death warrant by being a gentleman and helping a young woman retrieve fallen documents.

Alice was simply making a big deal out of nothing.

* * *

I leaned back against the soft snow bank, letting the dry powder reshape itself around my weight. My skin had cooled to match the air around me, and the tiny pieces of ice felt like velvet under my skin.

The sky above me was clear, brilliant with stars, glowing blue in some places, yellow in others. The stars created majestic, swirling shapes against the black universe—an awesome sight. Exquisitely beautiful. Or rather, it should have been exquisite.

Would have been, if I'd been able to really see it.

It wasn't getting any better. Six days had passed, six days I'd hidden here in the empty Denali wilderness, but I was no closer to freedom than I had been since the first moment that I'd caught her scent.

When I stared up at the jeweled sky, it was as if there were an obstruction between my eyes and their beauty. The obstruction was a face, just an unremarkable human face, but I couldn't quite seem to banish it from my mind. Couldn't quite seem to banish the mouthwatering smell of her blood that maintained a constant burning in my throat.

To think that a mere teenage girl had driven me to _this_ , one who would otherwise be entirely irrelevant to my own existence. It was so incomprehensible that it was almost humorous. I'd always prided myself on my self-control; after finding my conscience once more after my rebellious years, I'd turned my will to steel and vowed to never disappoint Carlisle -my _father_ \- again. And I'd been successful, almost arrogant about it even.

And yet here I was.

I made a mental note to never, ever, judge Jasper again.

I thought back to that fateful Monday afternoon, and how it had gone so horribly wrong. One moment I'd been lamenting the fact that I'd have to endure a full hour of highschool biology, an hour which seemed exceptionally bleaker than normal after the Music class I'd just left-and the next I was running mathematical estimations about how long it would take to snap the neck of all twenty humans in the room, before draining the girl seated beside me dry without attracting any witnesses.

I was a century old immortal, but that hour had seemingly stretched longer than my entire lifetime. How I'd managed the strength not to act on my most potent, basest desire, I'd never know.

I knew I couldn't go back, but where would I go? I could not think of one place on the entire planet that held any interest for me. There was nothing I wanted to see or do. Because, no matter where I went, I would not be going to anywhere—I would only be running from.

I hated that. When had I become such a coward?7

I clicked my teeth in annoyance, and abruptly sat up, drawing my knees to my chest; it was the first time I'd moved in three days.

Maybe I _would_ run, I'd run and run to the ends of the earth, feel the sense of exhilaration it caused within me until I forgot about the human girl entirely.

 _Un sentido de alegría,_ my mind echoed in remembrance, the heavy Spanish tones of Catalina Augustín ringing in my mind.

And suddenly the plain face that had been haunting me for the past six days was replaced by the smiling one of Forks High's new music teacher. Her big grey eyes stared at me in challenge, a dark brow arched. It was how she'd looked at Jessica that day during class, but now it was if it was directed at me specifically, judging and condemning my cowardice.

My small moment of defiance melted away at her unwavering stare, and I flopped back down into the snow, the flakes puffing into the air around me, and I watched one as it floated down gracefully, before landing on the tip of my nose.

The image of Catalina Augustín remained.

 _The suspense is over and end you have been waiting for is here, it is time for you to go home now,_ her face seemed to tell me, stern and leaving no room for discussion.

I stared up at the stars with a puzzled frown, bewildered by the fact my mind had conjured up the shade of this woman as a source of conscience, but mostly chagrined at the fact that it was _working_.

As much as I wanted to, I could not run away from my problems, nor could I stay lying in this Alaskan forest and let myself be buried under the snow for another decade or so. I had to face my problems head on, or else I would find no peace of mind.

I sighed, mind abruptly made up after days of turmoil.

I knew that Alice would see me coming home, that she would tell the others. This would make them happy—Carlisle and Esme especially. But I gazed at the stars for one more moment, trying to see past the face in my head. Between me and the brilliant lights in the sky, Catalina's expression seemed almost pleased with me.

How strange it was, that calling upon her image had pulled me out of my indecision. Yet, I could only let out a huff of amusement, running a hand through my snow-dampened hair.

I didn't dwell on it however. In a hurry to see my family -and wanting very much to be the Edward that faced things head on- I raced full speed across the starlit snowfield, leaving no footprints.8

The sooner I got back, the better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all! Here we are again with another chapter of this fic, one which I'm surprised I even managed to write at all, but nonetheless exists. Lol.**

 **Thank you for all those who fav'd, followed and reviewed (you guys especially), your support is much appreciated, and I shall reply asap.**

 **Thoughts on this chapter? Um, it was super weird not writing about the typical twi-teen characters, and instead the teachers, but realistically, that's who she'd hang out with. Bella is sweet on the outside, but bland on the inside, and though we will see Matiás occasionally, please rest assured that this is still Edward/Catalina. Catward, ha.**

 **Oooh, by the way, I realized the diction in this fic can be abit confusing when coming from Cat's POV, because in narration she uses contractions but in speech she doesn't; that's because she** _ **thinks**_ **in Spanish, which is her native language and the one that she's most comfortable with, whereas she's not so used to English that she can speak it without effort. Of course, when speaking to Maria or Matiás its in Spanish, hence her speech manner changes then as well. Hope that's not too confusing! If there are any questions, feel free to ask. And if anyone wants a Catalina face claim, its Emmeraude Toubia, who I'm entirely in love with.**

 **Much love to all,**

 **Review?**

* * *

"You met the Cullen kids yet?" Asked Mrs Gobb on Tuesday morning as we sat in the staff room, sipping coffee. A few other teachers milled about, on the couches and at various work spaces, but otherwise the small kitchenette was empty but for she and I.

Mrs Gobb -or well, Maria, as she insisted on being called- was a plain but kind woman, looking to be around her early forties and occupied a post at the school as their Spanish teacher. Mrs Cope had told me about her the previous day, but I'd only just gotten the chance to meet her, when I'd come in to make myself a cup of coffee before my next period. At first glance, she seemed much like everyone else in this small backwater town, all gloom and doom, and nothing like the hot-blooded Mexican she claimed. She'd married a Forks local, and had been here so long that she'd become one of them. Her skin was the color of ivory and she'd picked up the local accent, but it was still nice to speak Spanish to someone, even if we occasionally stumbled at each others dialect.

An image of Edward and siblings flashed across my mind in response to her query, and I nodded quickly, " _Si,"_ I breathed out, and apparently it was more than enough to convey my amazement judging by the sage nod of agreement that Maria gave me. "They're very beautiful." I said, though it was a gross understatement. Stunning, sublime, flawless -the list went had to be some on the most breathtaking people I'd ever seen in my life, all made up of silverdust and starshine, and while _I'd_ never been a fan of pale, their skin was so smooth and moonlike that I couldn't bring myself to mind too much; they seemed like the galaxy personified.

Maria looked amused, "All that and more. They'll be your best students no doubt, they're the smartest kids around, _heck_ , smartest people around. They give even us teachers a run for our money!"

My interest peaked, "You say it like they're not from around here..." I pointed out, to which she nodded affirmative, sipping at her coffee.

"Oh no, they just moved here, it hasn't been too long, around two years?" She guessed, a thoughtful frown coming over her features. I frowned, because to me, two years didn't warrant a "just moved here", but to be fair, the town looked small enough that everyone's grandparents had probably been in diapers together. I guessed that anyone who hadn't been around for _at least_ a decade was 'fresh off the boat'.

I could just imagine Matiás' disdain should he ever set foot here, and _just_ managed to bite the inside of my cheek to hide a smile.

"They came down from Alaska, the father having accepted a job at the hospital -and if you think the kids are good looking, you should see the Doctor. _Como un ángel directamente del cielo!"_ Maria continued to gush, and honestly, I couldn't bring myself to doubt her.

Still, this family seemed to be the only interesting body around for kilometers, and I'd always been a shameless fan of gossip, so I pushed on. " _Y la madre?_ " I asked nonchalantly, my bringing my own cup to my lips, blowing at the steam. Maria seemed to hesitate at my query, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

I arched a brow expectantly, and the older woman caved. "Just as beautiful as the rest of them, does a lot of charity too, a kind soul. Only, well, the poor woman can't have children." She whispered conspiratorially, and I blinked.

"But the kids-?" I started, causing Maria to wave a hand dismissively, her eyes darting around to see for other listeners. I didn't understand why she was trying to keep our conversation on the low, what she was sharing seemed like it would be common knowledge.

"All adopted, though the two blonds are her niece and nephew, _gemelos_." She stated, to my momentary confusion. I'd only met one blonde, the girl with the with shimmering flaxen hair and confidence that just _radiated_ off her in heavy waves. I'd had her in my first Senior class the previous morning, along with a burly boy with black cupid curls and a mischievous grin. To think there was _another_ one.

Before I could voice my chagrin however, a man with dark, greying hair and wire framed glasses walked into the room, carrying a lunchbox.

"Oh," he said, pausing mid step at seeing me, "You must be the new music teacher, I'm Bruce Banner, the biology teacher."

I couldn't help the look laugh that escaped my mouth, and the man rolled his eyes with a put upon sigh, taking a seat next to Maria. "Yes, yes, very funny, I know." He grumbled.

I lifted a hand to my mouth to try and muffle my amusement, "Can you blame me? And you are a biology teacher, as well!" I let out a few more giggles, and luckily Bruce didn't seem too angry. Still, I forced myself to get my act together, "I apologize, that was rude of me. I am Catalina Augustín, it is great to meet you." I said with a smile.

The biology teacher smiled, "Its really no big deal, I've been dealing with it since childhood. Its nice to meet you too, Ms Augustín."

I winced, and Maria snorted, "Call her Catalina, she feels the Ms makes her old." The woman said, causing Bruce to squint at me curiously.

"You _are_ awfully young, why you could even pass for one of my seniors if I didn't know better." He said, cracking open the flaps of his lunch box, and pulling out a lettuce-heavy sandwich. He saw the excessive amount of greenery in his meal, and sighed.

"Wife at it again, is she?" Maria remarked, a knowing glint in her eye.

"Don't even start, Maria." He warned, opening the bread and beginning to deleaf his bread. Maria simply tittered in amusement, and I hid a smile behind a sip of coffee. "What were you guys talking about, before I rudely interrupted?" He asked.

"I was just telling Catalina here about our resident Royal Family." Said Maria, gesturing towards me.

Mr Banner caught on immediately, unsurprisingly. "Oh the Cullens," he closed his sandwich, "Yeah, they're pretty well known around here, though they keep to themselves mostly."

My eyes flickered over to Maria, who was nodding beside him, "Very close knit as well." She added, only for Bruce to let out a derogatory snort.

" _Too_ close knit, if you ask me." He said around a mouthful of his meal. Maria slapped his arm in disapproval, but I looked pointedly towards her for an answer. She twiddled her thumbs around the handle of her mug.

"Well, they're all _together_." She stated, shifting uncomfortably. My brows rose to my hairline, and I leaned back in my chair in surprise.

The way she said "together" clearly meant more than the typical sibling closeness that was expected from them, and _way_ more than what was expected from a group of adopted teenagers.

"Oh." Was all I could say, and okay, _maybe_ pseudo-incestuous relationships weren't what I was expecting, but I could roll with it, mostly. A bit weird (maybe a little more than a 'bit', really), but nothing that was morally offensive. And obviously it was none of _my_ business what went behind closed doors, and if _their_ parents were okay with it, then, yeah, okay. Plus, it wasn't like they were actually _related_ so it didn't really count as incest did it? I was an open minded person, and as long as there wasn't any underage or noncon going on, then it was fine.

 _Dios_ , they were all living under _one_ roof though -no Catalina, don't even get into it.

Bruce and Maria were watching me carefully, and I gave an awkward chuckle, "Well, it is not _that_ bad, is it?" I ventured, trying to seem totally unperturbed -which I _was_. "They are not related, as you said." I added, and the other woman gave a slow nod.

"You see, Bruce?" She said pointedly, before turning to me, lifting her hand to cover her mouth slightly,"Bruce is a bit of a bigot-"

"-I am not!" The man in question protested angrily, but she only ignored him.

"He has trouble accepting new ideals, but Marge and I are working on it." She finished, making no attempt to lower her voice. Bruce huffed, biting into his food with an unnecessary amount of force.

"I just think that certain things shouldn't be morally allow-" he started in defense, but Maria was having none of it, much to my pleasure. It was nice to know I wouldn't be the only one in this small town that subscribed to progress, even if I was a bit unsure of this particular case.

"Anyway," said she, smoothly cutting him off, "They all do make such lovely couples, you should see them together. Edward's the only one of them who is single."

I found _that_ hard to believe, not with the boy's bronze hair and perfect jawline. All the girls of the school must've been falling over themselves for his attention.

"Maybe he's gay?" Bruce speculated, voice rude and I rolled my eyes.

"Mr Banner, just because he has not yet taken an interest in anyone does not mean he is gay, and _if_ he is, then maybe he is just not ready to go public." And that wouldn't be surprising if everyone in this town was like this biology teacher. Small town America wasn't exactly...tolerant.

I hadn't had enough interaction with the boy to debate his sexual orientation though, and it wasn't as if gay had a _look_ either, so judging by outward appearance was ridiculous. Regardless, gay or not, I had no doubt he had fans of _all_ genders willingly throwing themselves at him.

Maria fanned herself, "If I were only a teen again," she breathed, and I cringed. I hoped at least, that Maria kept her attraction for him under wraps and firmly superficial.

Edward, for all his mature good looks, was still underage, and it was entirely creepy for Maria, a woman well into adulthood to be sexualizing him. I knew what it was like to be preyed on by a teacher. I'd once had a science teacher in highschool who liked to get...handsy. There was nothing more uncomfortable than having an older person look at you like a piece of meat. Luckily in my case, the teacher had been caught with some compromising photos of himself and a younger second year student, and was fired immediately.

Goodness, it was creepy that we even sat here talking about his sexuality. I felt the disgust at my actions and my thoughts; seeing a grown woman fawning over him from an outside perspective was jarring, because I'd had similar thoughts just yesterday. I vowed to get my act together and look upon them with a firmly professional eye.

I hoped for the sake of the Cullen children, that the other teachers were doing the same.

Just then, the bell signalling the end of our break rang, and Bruce hurriedly finished off the last of his sandwich, "Better get back to dealing with those hellions, God save us all." He grumbled, standing and gathering his things. Maria followed after, a wry smile on her face.

"You'd think after four years they'd at least be able to say _Hola._ " She said tiredly, to which I snorted.

"See you around, Catalina." Bruce said, fixing his glasses before leaving.

The other woman lingered a few moments more, "We'll talk more later." She told me, a smile on her face, to which I nodded.

She seemed nice enough, if a little misguided, and it would be nice to have someone to converse with, even just a little. "Of course!" I answered brightly, with a wave.

Most teachers in the room quickly dispersed, moving hurriedly out the door and to their next classes, shooting me polite smiles on the way. I didn't linger either, staying only to rinse my cup out at the little sink in the kitchenette, but on my way out, I was almost bowled over by a frantic form, the force causing me to almost topple over. As I blinked, dazed, the person made an angry sound. "Watch where you're-!" They started heatedly, only to fizzle out just as quick.

I looked up and saw a bulky man, twice as wide as me easily, all muscle. He was slightly redcheeked, and a sheen of perspiration dotted his forehead. Donning a cap (only he knew why, considering Forks never got any sun), a whistle, and a sporty ensemble, I gathered he must have been the P.E teacher. I frowned at him, because big or not, _he'd_ bumped into me. "I think the fault is with you, sir." I stated sternly, and to my surprise, he nodded vigorously in agreement, stepping aside from the doorway.

"Yes -Yes, all my fault, I'm very sorry." He said, eyes wide. "Are you the new teacher?" He asked, sounding surprised, and I smiled.

"Yes, and I accept your apology." I answered, stepping forward to leave. He jumped in front me suddenly, and I startled, shifting backwards warily. He coughed, smoothing down his oversized blue T-shirt.

"I'm Coach Clapp -well not _Coach_ Clapp, that's not my name, but I'm the phys ed teacher here at Forks, I whip those slackers into shape -uh, _not_ with an actual whip though." He introduced in a rush, holding out a hand.

I shook it after a moment, "Nice to meet you, Coach-"

"-My name's Jeff, well it's _Jeffrey_ actually but, I mean, its just Jeff." He interrupted, a little sheepish, and I nodded slowly.

"-Jeff." I rectified easily, pulling my hand away. "I am Catalina. It is nice to meet you, but I am afraid I have a class right now and-"

Again he jumped, this time to the side, leaving the hallway visible. He was surprisingly nimble for a man his size. Jumping Jeff, I thought in amusement.

"Wow, you must be late! I'm sorry, again. I'll just..." He made a vague gesture, shuffling out of my way entirely. The motion was awkward with his hulking size, and I gave him a genuine smile as I made my way out.

* * *

Principal Johnson of Forks high had decided to make my music classes mandatory throughout all the grades, and considering the school had a total of about three hundred and fifty, we'd decided to divide each grade into two separate groups, over a period of four days, which meant that I taught eight classes, Monday to Thursday, and had a long weekend.

Monday's I held Groups A of the Seniors and Juniors, Tuesdays were Groups A of Freshmen and Sophomores, Wednesdays I had Groups B of Freshmen and Sophomores, and Thursdays were Groups B of Seniors and Juniors. Two classes a day, one before and one after lunch.

Honestly, it was all a bit daunting, considering I had to make lesson plan upon lesson plan for each level, also taking in the fact that Fork's music program had been entirely lacking to the point that it was a wonder they couldeven _call_ it a music program. It meant that on top of what I'd originally planned for my six month duration, I'd also have to take time out and drill the students through the basics, and that couldn't be done in one day. It was pushing me back by _weeks_. It was needless to say, very inconvenient.

Still, it was anything I couldn't do, and it was an opportunity to ground them in a bit more than the standard curriculum; my goal for every posting, was to leave the students a bit more open minded than I'd found them, and sometimes that could be a bit difficult if they were already stuck in the straight, unyielding mentality a lot of music teachers demanded. At least Forks had a chance.

I found my groove quickly enough, acclimatizing to the increased workload and organizing myself to fit it, and within a few days I found myself settling into a stable, if busy routine. The students were sweet and lively, and they tolerated my occasional lapses in English with a sort of fond exasperation. The first week was always the easiest however, but I was hoping they'd keep their friendliness throughout the time I was here. Goodness knew it was hell working with troublesome students.

The people of Forks were all quite nice as well, if a bit nosy. They fell upon me within the first few days, claiming neighborly intentions (despite the fact that I had no neighbors for several kilometers all around), bearing food (mostly baked goods) and cheerful smiles, all the while letting their eyes roam unsubtly around the house, commenting in only _slightly_ judgy voices _"isn't it a big for a young girl like you?"._ I only smiled and shrugged helplessly. In Forks, it seemed no one under forty lived alone, and even then it was rare. Nevertheless, I was used to the scrutiny; I frequently found myself posted within small communities, so I'd grown used to it and didn't begrudge them their interest.

I met the parents of many of my students, including Isabella Swan's father, the resident police chief who'd stopped by Tuesday evening to personally welcome me, and to inform me that if I ever encountered any problems, to go directly to him. He was an awkward man, much like his daughter, but also kind, and so I'd given him one of the numerous muffins I'd received and a bright smile in thanks, causing him to blush terribly and bolt.

Thursday afternoon, I had my first class with his daughter, who's shy behavior made much more sense upon meeting her father.

She sat as far from the front as possible, shoulders hunched inwards and her curtain of brown hair acting as a shield to block others out -not that it seemed to be helping much. A blond boy named Mike Newton was frequently twisting around from where he sat in front of her, chatting away happily and clearly ignorant of her discomfort.

I watched them from the corner of my eye the entire class, but I chose not to intervene. She seemed like she needed a friend, and while talkative, the blond boy looked nice. And the girl didn't particularly look harassed, and would occasionally mumble something back in reply, so I took it as a good sign. Highschool was hell when one didn't have anyone to accompany them throughout, and it wouldn't do for girl like her to be ostracized. Her whole demeanor just screamed "vulnerable!".

My speculations were confirmed when she tripped over her undone shoelace at the end of class, catching herself on the edge of my desk just in time, face a bright tomato red.

"It is alright." I said with a smile, immediately putting down the white board eraser in my hand and coming around to help her stand upright, before crouching down to help tie the lace.

"Oh, no, I can do it..." she told me, but I simply waved a hand in dismissal, tightening the other lace that was half loose. She probably wouldn't have made it five steps without tripping again had I left it.

"There," I said, standing and smiling at her. "Those will stay tight until at least Christmas, so you are fine!" I exclaimed jokingly, but she didn't even crack a smile.

"Thank you." She murmured, eyes downcast, and my frown turned upside down, cause that must have been the most depressing thanks I'd ever heard in my life.

"...Are you well?" I ventured carefully, but she only deflated even more. "What is wrong, Isabella? Are you being bullied?" I asked worriedly. Maybe I'd been wrong, and that Mike boy really was bugging her more than I'd thought, but before I could speak again, she shook her head. The gesture wasn't all that convincing.

"No, well not really...It doesn't matter though, its fine." She tried to move around me and leave, but I called her back.

"Isabella, I know I am a teacher and you may not be very comfortable but, if you have a problem here, you can tell me." I told her, and she worried her lip unsurely.

"I thought you were a student, that day in the office. It would have been nice knowing that I wasn't the only new girl around." She said eventually, almost as if she was admitting something deeply embarrassing, but I tried to give her a smile of encouragement.

"You are not -I am new here too, I understand in can be hard in a new environment-"

"Its not a new environment." She stated, sounding even more downtrodden, and wow okay, this wasn't going how I'd planned at _all_. Isabella continued, "I'm not being bullied, it's just there's this one guy and I think I may have done something to make him not like me. That's really all it is."

Ah, guy problems I though with relief. I could deal with that easily, and hopefully in a way that wouldn't make her more dejected. I changed my initial assumption of vulnerable, to fragile, because _Dios_ , she looked like she could fall to pieces at even the softest breeze. "You have only been here a few days, Isabella. I do not think you could have done anything to anyone in that time." I tried, but she just shook her head again and made a sound of disagreement, and it all came out in a rush. .

"You didn't see him, he looked angry, almost hostile when I sat next to him, almost as if I'd personally insulted him or something." She huffed slightly, "I don't know, maybe I did, I don't understand anything. I just want to apologize, but now Edward's gone and disappeared and his siblings are all looking at me like it's _my_ fault."

I found myself surprised. Edward Cullen had behaved well enough, and he'd been very polite, going so far as to help me gather my things. I tried to imagine him as she'd described, but even though I'd barely even interacted with him, I couldn't really. And to the point that even his siblings had turned on the poor girl? It was very strange.

"Maybe you said something?" I asked, trying to puzzle it out.

Isabella frowned, "I didn't say a word. He's been gone the whole week, and even tried to transfer out of our shared class."

I winced inwardly, because that was a bad sign if any. But Isabella seemed sweet, if timid, I couldn't believe she'd done anything to him either. "...I doubt very much that it has anything to do with you. Perhaps he is simply unwell." I decided.

She didn't seem very reassured. "Maybe." She allowed. The final warning bell rang for her last class, and with a halfhearted tilt of her lips, she was off.

I watched her go feeling vaguely disappointed. I wished I could have helped her a bit more, if only to lay down her fears, but she probably really was just reading too much into things. It was very unlikely to me that she could drive him away just by her presence. And anyway, this was highschool; teenagers had a million and one reasons for why they behaved the way they did, that was just adolescence. If you gave them enough space, they'd come around on their own eventually.

Hopefully, at least.

I thought back to my own teenage years with a cringe, and honestly, I was the last person to be giving anyone younger that twenty _any_ advice.

* * *

With the arrival of Friday, I was able to take advantage of my long weekend to finally, _finally_ , get my act together and go get myself connected to a cellular network, so that I may once again, be connected with the rest of humanity. Forks had a way of drowning people, its endless greenery seemingly cutting off everything else not connected to it, and after five days, I was feeling positively stifled by it all.

So I got my simcard and a monthly cellular plan, but they told me if I wanted anything even resembling WiFi, I'd have to go up to their branch in Port Angeles, because for _some_ Godforsaken reason, Forks had decided that living in the stone ages was preferable to being potentially exposed to the twenty-first century and all it entailed.

For the moment however, handheld internet was enough to get me by, and after letting my phone sit and spasm around worrisomely for about five minutes straight -a result of the numerous notifications I'd missed during my week in the great green outback-, I did the good thing, the _responsible_ thing.

I called Matiás.

I was nervous, very nervous in fact, considering we'd parted on less than warm terms -meaning a screaming match in the middle of the airport, if one wanted to be specific, and normally I wouldn't be all that worried because that was just how we _were;_ hot and explosive, competitive and jealous, and _always_ fighting for the last word. We fought and then we fucked, and then it was over, whatever disagreement we'd had blown into the wind to make way for a calm breeze, that is until the next tempest made its way in. And yes, our relationship was dysfunctional and probably unhealthy, but it was _us._

But this time it was different, it wasn't about him and his constant business trips, or my flirting with other men to make him jealous -this was me having left for six months two weeks after we'd been engage, all the way across the _ocean_. It was selfish of me, I knew, but I was a selfish person and my mother had always taught me self love above all else. That didn't mean, I enjoyed hurting him, or that I didn't feel guilty at putting our relationship on hold for half a year.

So I made myself look extra pretty, gave myself a pep talk, and dove into FaceTime.

He picked up on the first ring, which typically meant...I took one look at his surroundings and resisted the urge to sigh. He was working.

"Lina, how good to see you alive, _mi cariño_." He greeted idly, shuffling through some papers on his desk. I gathered he was using his tablet, the camera facing him at an angle. It was probably situated just to the left of him, sitting upright on the desk.

He looked much the same as I'd least seen him, his curly golden hair a crown on his head, vibrant in the light streaming through the window. Eleven years my senior, Matiás was a man fully confident in himself, all roguish goodlooks and brilliant sunshine. Dressed suavely in a navy suit, he looked like the typical male protagonist in a telenovela.

"Won't you look at me, Matiás?" I challenged, raising a brow expectantly.

Ocean blue eyes flickered towards me for an instant, before they were back on whichever document he was working so intently on. "Beautiful, as always." He stated simply.

"You're angry." I said knowingly, and he nodded, making a sound of agreement at the back of his throat.

"Am I not supposed to be? You left me-"

I bristled, "-You make sound as if I broke up with you-!"

"For a country across the world, and then you disappear for a full week without even a phone call to tell me you've arrived safely." He continued smoothly as if I'd made no interruption. "I'd thought that's what fiancés do at least. You know, _call_ each other."

I winced, "I didn't have a number yet." I tried, but the look he leveled me was a dry _really?_ which okay, I guess I _hadn't_ made an effort. Number or no, I could have found a way had I really wanted to. "I wanted us both to calm down." I said instead, honestly this time.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose, a typical sign of stress on his part, and let the papers drop. "You understand _why_ I'm not happy?"

I nodded immediately, "Of course I do, but-"

He held up a hand to stop me in my tracks, leaning back into his leather office chair tiredly. "As long as you understand my side of things, that's enough for now. And while I haven't exactly accepted your decision, I'm letting it lie."

I stared at him. "So you're no longer angry with me?" I ventured slowly, and he scoffed.

"Of course I'm still angry," he told me, and I breathed a sigh of relief because it would've been weirder if he was suddenly all calm about everything. "But I think for now, I shall back off. Eventually, one of us will bend."

I nodded in agreement, "You, of course." I said confidently, because it certainly wouldn't be _me_. I was in this till the end, whether he liked it or not.

The grin he gave me was full of cunning, an expression I was more used to on his face. "In time, we shall see." He declared simply, "Now tell me of this _Forks_ -" he said the English word like it was dirty, full of disdain, and I snorted "-you left me for."

I puffed my cheeks and pouted, "Oh, _es absolutamente triste!_ " I moaned pitifully, eying the sunlight filling up his office enviously. Five days in, and I'd seen not even a glimpse of it.

Still, Matiás only nodded sagely, as if my words were already a known, indisputable fact of life, and I adored him for it.


End file.
